All it took was a ball of fluff
by skag trendy
Summary: An unbeta’d little gift for Phx, as another small ‘thankyou’ for all her help over the last year. Synopsis: Of all things, it was the ball of fluff that proved Sam was still Sammy. Set just after The End, Season 5.


**All it took was a ball of fluff.**

_**An unbeta'd little gift for Phx, as another small 'thankyou' for all her help over the last year.**_

_**Synopsis: Of all things, it was the ball of fluff that proved Sam was still Sammy.**_

_**Set just after The End, Season 5.**_

_**Warnings: a little AU 'cos I've made some stuff up about their childhood.**_

_**&**_

Dean paused when he heard voices, or _voice, _and threw the tyre iron back in the tool box.

"Sam? You gonna come help me here or what?"

No answer.

_Dammit._

The Impala was laid up at the side of a quiet road, off side front wheel spinning gently from when Dean tried to remove it, and the _damn _wheel nut refused to budge. The spare lay nearby, awaiting it's first ever ride since the original had given out to a rusty nail in the road.

"Sam!"

There was a pause, and then Sam, or rather Sam's _head_ appeared, resting on the roof of the car, a nervous, almost worried expression on his face. "Huh? What?"

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean glared at him. "The car, Sam! Ya know? That big black conveyance that gets us from A to B?"

When Sam just stared at him blankly, Dean huffed and shifted from foot to foot. "Used to have four wheels, but now it's got three?" Dean was practically growling at him by now.

"Oh." Sam blinked, then his eyes widened with dawning realisation. "Oh! Yeah! Sure, sorry! I got a little distracted..."

He glanced around as if wondering where to put himself. "Yeah, uh… just a second…"

"Sam, you ok?" Dean tried to inject a note of concern, but it came out sounding more like a harsh warning. "You're acting kinda weird." He rested his arms on the roof of the car and stared hard at his little brother. "You... uh… not _sickening_ for anything… or anything?"

Sam's mouth dropped open in dismay and hurt, but said nothing, just shook his head slightly as though knowing he deserved it, and trudged away dejectedly.

"Hey!"

_Right! That's it! _Dean jogged around the car and caught up with his brother, noting the hunched over shoulders and bowed head.

"What the hell's the matter with you?"

Grabbing his upper arm, he swung Sam round to face him, and stared in shock.

Two sets of soft, frightened eyes gazed back at him.

The first set belonged to his kid brother, but the other belonged to the golden retriever puppy snuggled in Sam's arms.

The puppy whimpered and shrank away from the angry man with the green eyes. Burrowing its little head in the crook of Sam's elbow, it took comfort in the soft, soothing voice of its new friend.

"It's ok, little one," Sam crooned, gently stroking the puppy's ears. "He's just upset right now, but he's really cool once you get to know him. I should know," Sam raised his head and looked Dean straight in the eye. "He's my big brother," he finished, softly.

Dean found, to his amazement, that he was suddenly having trouble swallowing, and that the hard lump in his throat wasn't going away any time soon.

"Where dya find this little guy?" his voice was still a little rough, but he'd at least lowered the volume in deference to the pup. When the fur ball peeked out at him from Sam's arm, Dean couldn't help the small smile that emerged. "He's cute. Ya know, for a dog."

Taking Dean's change in mood as a good sign, Sam let a smile of his own grow in response.

"Yeah, I think he's lost. Found him in an irrigation ditch… heard him crying, like he was hurt or something," Sam's smile faltered for a second, but picked up again. "He had a thorn stuck in his paw, but I got it out with a pair of tweezers. Don't worry!" He added, worried that he might set Dean off again. "I disinfected them before I put them back in the first aid box."

Dean chuckled and reached out to scratch behind the puppy's ears, surprised when the ball of fluff didn't shy away from him. He'd always wanted a dog, a golden retriever just like this one in fact.

When they were really young, he and Sam used to pretend they had a canine pal that went everywhere with them.

His name was Gunner, and he took it in turns to sleep on each brother's bed. Most kids had imaginary friends, but the Winchester brothers played with an imaginary dog. Gunner was loyal and friendly to those he trusted, but fierce and lethal towards anyone he didn't. He'd guarded and protected the brothers through some of their worst nightmares, and kept them company during the long lonely hours when their father was away on a hunt. He played ball, gave chase, hid Dean's shoes from time to time, stole from Sam's meagre stash of candy, but never barked or annoyed the neighbours, and absolutely never cost the Winchesters anymore than they could afford.

He was the perfect dog.

And he'd never existed, except inside the boys' hearts.

John, of course, had soon tired of all this. Once upon a time, he'd found it sweet, funny even, but as the brothers grew, their father, ever the drill sergeant, demanded that Dean 'put a stop to all this invisible dog nonsense'.

Dean would never forget the look of sadness and betrayal on six year old Sammy's face when he tried to get Dean to play with him and Gunner the next day, and Dean had scornfully told him that Gunner was make believe, and that they didn't need him anymore.

'_Make believe is for little boys, Sammy, and I ain't little. You go ahead a play with him if you want to, but leave me alone.'_

That bottom lip had begun trembling, the puppy dog eyes had filled with tears, and Sammy ran to the bedroom, leapt onto his bed and buried his little face in the pillows, sobbing quietly.

In the days that followed, Sam still tried to keep Gunner in their little family but, without Dean, it just hadn't been as much fun. Sam felt all alone with no one to play with and no one to talk to. It was hard for a little boy to understand that it had been _Dean _that made the whole pretence so worth while, that it was something they'd shared and enjoyed together. And so, poor Gunner died his imaginary doggy death, and Sammy hadn't been the same after that.

Watching Sam now, with the puppy in his arms, pressing his face into the tiny dog's fur, and seeing those dimples for the first time in way too long, Dean wondered about Gunner.

Would it really have been too much to keep a dog?

John had argued bitterly against it when Dean broached the subject once or twice after Sammy went to bed in the evenings. Their father claimed that it was cruel to keep a dog locked up in the car on long journeys, and that moving around as much as they did just wasn't healthy or fair…

Dean almost snorted. He hadn't been one to backchat John, that was more Sam's thing when he hit his teens, but that night? He'd been sorely tempted. What was unhealthy for a _dog_, in John's mind, was perfectly acceptable for two small children.

_Perhaps it's true what they say, _thought Dean sadly;_ some people care more about animal welfare than their own kids._

And instantly knew that was maybe a little unfair to their late father.

He was disturbed from his thoughts when Sam held out the pup.

"You wanna hold him?"

Dean thought he was joking at first, but soon realised his brother was serious. "What? Uh… no, it's ok…"

But Sam was already pushing the fur ball into his arms. "Here ya go. Just scratch right here" he indicated the pup's soft belly. "Or, he likes his ears being stroked."

The puppy wriggled a little until he settled down happily in Dean's arms, and huffed through his little snout, gazing up at him with trust.

"They say that animals are great for healing the soul," Sam spoke up quietly after a few minutes of silence.

His eyes met Dean's, but where Dean expected to see hope, he saw only sadness. "Maybe this little fella can help you heal yours, huh?" Sam continued, voice a little wobbly. "I mean, just until we can find out where he lives. I'm sure some poor kid somewhere is eating their heart out and searching for him right now…"

Dean frowned. "Wait, what do you mean, heal _mine?_"

Sam blinked. "As in, what you went through in hell… and what I put you through afterwards…"

"No," Dean was shaking his head. "No, as in why _mine_ and not _yours?"_

Sam dropped his head to stare at the dusty ground. "I think mine's a little passed help now, Dean, after what I did. It's a little too black." He met Dean's gaze briefly one more time and whispered, "But it's not too late for yours. You didn't do anything to deserve this."

With one last, sad smile, Sam headed back round the car and set about fitting the spare tyre.

Dean was nearly floored.

Yeah, he still wasn't sure if he could trust Sam, but he was willing to try. After all, Sam wasn't the only one who'd screwed up over the last few years. Dean, himself, had set the whole apocalypse train in motion down in hell, Castiel had made a few contributions along the way too, under the orders of that bastard archangel Zach, - and Dean got the feeling there was more to that story than had originally met the eye, something that perhaps even Cas wasn't telling him.

Oh sure, he and Cas could both claim the luxury of ignorance but, if so, then why couldn't Sam? _He _hadn't known what killing Lilith would really lead to, anymore than Dean had, at least until Castiel fessed up.

They'd all been foolish, and stubborn, and prideful one way or another.

No. Sam wasn't the only one to blame, but so far he was the only one who'd had the guts to admit he'd been wrong.

Maybe that trust thing wouldn't be so hard after all, but if Sam couldn't see or feel hope for himself then it would all be a waste of time.

"Sam." Dean walked back round the car, and crouched down by his little brother, heart clenching painfully when he saw the tears running down his face. Reaching out, he gently stopped Sam's progress with the tyre. "Why don't you let me deal with that, huh?" he offered gently. "I think the pup misses you."

As if he'd heard loud and clear, the little puppy began struggling out of Dean's arms and, tail wagging, scrambled over to bury his nose in Sam's neck.

Dean nearly cried when Sam smiled gratefully and nodded his thanks.

Whilst big brother tackled the spare wheel, little brother sat down beside him, the small puppy curled in his lap.

The three of them talked about anything but the hunt for Lucifer, or God, or vessels, or sacrifice, or revenge.

It was just two boys and their dog, if only for a little while, sitting in the afternoon sun and treasuring this small moment of peace and quiet.

And for a while there, Dean could almost swear he felt Gunner standing over them, loyal and protective as ever. The ghost of a dog that managed to love them, no matter what, no matter that he'd never...

_No. He'd existed in some way. _

_Somehow. Gunner __**had**__ been there._

Dean heaved a contented sigh.

_Yeah. He's still Sammy. A little twisted, just like me, and a lot heavy with guilt, but he's still Sammy._

_**The End.**_

_**Author's notes: Just a little something I whipped on call last night. And please, no arguments or crap about how it's all Sam's fault, etc. This is just my take on it, with the little I've seen of season 5 so far, and I'd really rather not have it spoiled by readers who only drop a review just to rant or criticize about Sam ... oh, and no spoilers beyond The end at the this stage please!**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST xxx**_


End file.
